August the most famous month in all England for the next four weeks summer could be the heat of a hot tin roof hot enough to fry an egg, where tarmac melts along the highway and Railway lines buckle in the noon day sun Pubs run out of Beer and children poke each others eyes out with ice cream cones…and then there is the Rain..where Poo sticks become tangled on the river bank and caravans full of school holiday children melt under playing too much monopoly as the rain drips down the windows. The last time we had one of those melt in your mouth summers, i had hair on my head and was perhaps madly in love and transvestite was only a word whispered in dark corners. Conversation earlier in the week with whom and who penciled in the year 1976 we have perhaps shot near one or two near misses but the year numbers escape me. So here is two fingers crossed, wishing on a star, and as many moonbeams that can fit inside an Elephants head too the next four weeks….So goeth...